


Paper Airplanes

by tired_alexander



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, boy next door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tired_alexander/pseuds/tired_alexander
Summary: Spot and Race have been neighbors all their lives.





	Paper Airplanes

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished writing this! Prompt: "I've been in love with you all my life."
> 
> For Olive, I love you friend! <3
> 
> Come talk to me about these boys @tired-alexander on Tumblr!

For as long as both boys could remember, Race and Spot had been next door neighbors. And by next door, extremely next door - their windows were only a few feet apart, the townhomes were so close together. Their mothers told them they had been best friends since Race gave Spot his extra cookie from lunch, and Spot let Race use his favorite crayons - best friends since 4.

They grew up side by side, doing just about everything together. Both boys had a penchant for wanting to talk late day and night about anything and everything, so they formulated a system from a young age: sending paper airplanes back and forth from window to window. Sure, there were times where it was raining, or too windy, or too cold to open their windows, but it was their system and they loved it. Eventually, to combat windy days specifically, along with poor aim, they hung a tight string between the windows and pushed the airplanes (hanging on the string with a butterfly clip) to send the planes to the other window. Of course, they technically COULD just talk to each other from their windows, albeit a bit loudly, but this was way more fun (and more cool, Spot assured Race).

Race was 6 and was scared about not being in Spot’s class for the upcoming year. He took a piece of paper from one of his new back-to-school notebooks (already covered in stickers, of course) and wrote a note on it: _“Hey, you get your teacher yet? I got Mr. Denton, I don’t know about you….I want to be in your class again, it’s so much fun!”_

He folded the paper into an airplane, attached it to the butterfly clip and sent it flying down the taut line, before it made a tapping noise as it ran into Spot’s window. A few seconds later, Spot opened the window and waved at Race happily before taking the paper off the clip and writing a reply underneath Race’s message: _“Come on, you think I’d ever leave you to fend for yourself? I’m in Denton’s class too!”_ He added a smiley face for good measure, folding it up and sending it back; when Race opened the plane he smiled a wide toothy grin in Spot’s direction, throwing his arms up in a cheer. Both boys laughed, knowing it was going to be a good year.

Spot was 13, and he was nervous out of his mind. He couldn’t stop shaking, knowing that he had to tell Race. He was his best friend, for Pete’s sake! And if he was his best friend, he shouldn’t care about something as trivial as this. Spot picked up a piece of paper, and wrote what he had to say quickly, immediately folding the page into an airplane to hide the words. It was a calm, clear spring day, and Race’s window was wide open - no need to use the line. He threw the plane cleanly, seeing it soar through the window and land on Race’s bed. He ran away from the window, backing himself into a corner on his bed, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. A few seconds later, the airplane was back, cleanly put together again. Spot made his way over to it, hands trembling, opening it to see that below his messily written message of _“I’m gay.”_ were the words _“Me too.”_ He smiled, and went to his window to see Race looking his direction, warm smile painting his face and light in his eyes. He nodded, and Spot nodded back. It was okay.

Race was 18, and it was senior year. He and Spot hadn’t sent each other airplanes in such a long time, they texted each other constantly. Which was good, they couldn’t hang out after school as much as they used to, thanks to Spot’s football and Race’s theatre. For Race, though, it was a slight saving grace - he was head over heels for Spot Conlon, and being in that boy’s vicinity for more than a few minutes at a time resulted in a rambling, blushy mess of a boy. The year was marching on, however, and even though the pair were going to the same college, Race was hoping that if Spot DID like him back, they might have a relationship without the stresses of college first. It was a late Friday night in December, both houses covered in beautiful lights, Race’s covered in the traditional white lights and Spot’s in the fun colored bulbs.

Snow started to fall lightly, the frozen flecks reflecting the light from both houses. Race looked through his window to Spot’s room; he could see Spot sitting in a chair next to the window, wrapped in a soft blanket while he read. Race blushed, seeing Spot in such a vulnerable state making him feel all warm and fuzzy. Race decided that he had to do it before the snow started to fall hard; he wrote slowly, crafting his words carefully. He opened the window, cold air rushing in with some snowflakes, chilling him immediately. Race folded the paper and attached the plane to the clip, sending it flying. He stood, biting his lip, waiting for the answer.

The plane tapped against the window, alerting Spot to it’s presence. He smiled warmly, he hadn’t received a plane in a long time. He opened the window, spying Race across the way, giving him a friendly wave and receiving a shaky one in return. He questioned Race’s nervous reply, before he opened the plane: _“I’ve been in love with you my entire life, and I just have to know: Sean, will you go out with me?”_ He flushed, suddenly no longer feeling cold. Spot’s eyes were wide, and he looked up at Race, and he now understood the other boy’s shaking form. He immediately smiled wide, shoving his window all the way up and leaned forward. “YES, TONY! GET OVER HERE!”

Race had never run so fast, knowing this was much better than a paper airplane.


End file.
